


Methos and Duncan go to the Beach

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-08-13
Updated: 1998-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well...Duncan and Methos go to the beach. And have fun. Pointless but cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Methos and Duncan go to the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Amanda and I had fun at the beach one day (No! Not like that!) This is what we came up with. The boys do not belong to me, I'm only using them for sex. They go back to their registered owners at the end of the day, and I beat the sand off them for their troubles.

As Duncan flapped out the blanket, Methos closed his eyes to protect it from the flying debris. He put the picnic basket down, even though Duncan had packed it, loaded it and hauled it the two miles to the deserted beach, it was still heavy and this wasn't his idea to begin with.

"You know, Duncan, you have sand in the cuffs of your pants," he said, and then enjoyed running his eyes up MacLeod's leg. He finally made it past the glorious body to Duncan's eyes, which didn't look like they enjoyed the gawk as much as Methos did.

"Sometimes I think you have such a one-track mind, Methos," Duncan said, glaring at him.

Methos grinned up at him. MacLeod was so cute when he was off on his wounded pride kick. "Only sometimes?" he asked. "What do you suppose I think about the rest of the time?"

Duncan snorted, taking the time to unbutton his shirt before slipping it off his shoulders. Methos went back to staring at the offered body. Duncan's chest made the irritating sand that managed to get inside his hiking boots worth it. He sat down on the blanket and began unlacing them, but disappointed MacLeod greatly by not taking off anything besides his boots. He lay back.

"What about the rest?" MacLeod asked.

"MacLeod!" Methos said, pretending to be shocked at the very idea. "What are you saying?"

"I think we should go for a swim."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Methos looked up, grinning. "Because I forgot to bring my shorts," he said.

Duncan sat down next to him. "That's amazing. The exact same thing happened to me."

"Really now," Methos said, smiling. "You want to get us both arrested for public indecency?" he asked.

"Hum. I'd pay to be alone with you in a jail cell."

Methos perked up. "Would you be my bitch?"

"Let's examine the relationship one more time."

"Hum...I tattoo you, and you still wonder who owns whom?" Methos asked with a smile.

"Methos, don't push me."

Methos took that as a challenge. So he did. Duncan pushed back. Methos rolled on top of him, and Duncan let him stay there. He leaned back, and nudged the basket with his foot, which caused the bottles to clank together. Methos reached for the basket, but he couldn't quite make it without keeping his weight over Duncan. "Time out," he called.

"You can't call time out," Duncan protested, but was amused enough with the concept to leave Methos on top for a while longer.

"I just did. Time out. Translation, don't move. I'll be right back."

"You know, Methos. You completely miss out on the idea of wrestling matches."

Methos grinned down at him, "Is that what you are calling it now?" he asked, and then bent down and kissed MacLeod's forehead.

Duncan let him go. He unzipped the cooler, and took out a bottle of beer, just as cold as it was when it came out of the fridge. He loved the modern world. He twisted the cap off. "Now, where were we?" Methos asked, moving back to Duncan's chest. "Oh, yes. Here," he tipped the bottle, and the first splashes hit Duncan's bare skin. MacLeod half sat up reflexively, and Methos pushed him down again. "You'll spill," he warned.

Duncan sat back down, but his stomach tensed as Methos poured another ounce or so onto his chest. It pooled in the nicest places. Methos bent his head down, and begun lapping it up. Perfect. Beer, salt and Highlander. Yummy.

Duncan tensed again as the fizz touched his nipples, but Methos kissed away the sting of the carbonation and the cold. Methos poured the last of the bottle down MacLeod's throat, and most of it caught in the pool created by MacLeod's tensing neck muscles. Methos could actually drink from it. he finished and wiped his mouth.

"Methos, get off me," Duncan said, finally.

Methos smiled. "I'd rather get you off."

MacLeod scowled. "I have to wash. Up," Duncan ordered.

Methos considered it. "What do I get in return?" he asked.

"I won't pick you up and throw you in the lake."

"That's it? Duncan, you'd make a horrible negotiator," Methos complained.

Duncan didn't answer. Instead, he ran a hand up Methos thigh, and Methos groaned. Okay, maybe MacLeod wouldn't make a half-bad negotiator at that. He groaned, shifting back against the caress. Unfortunately, his movement ground his bony butt into Duncan's groin.

MacLeod groaned in pain, pushing Methos off.

Oops. "Would it help if I kissed it better?" Methos asked from where he landed.

"If you break your toys you can't play any more," Duncan snapped.

"I'd just get new toys," Methos said, but was beginning to feel concerned. He pushed himself up to his elbows and ran a bare foot up MacLeod's thigh.

"No, you won't," Duncan said. His breathing had returned to normal. Methos stopped his foot an inch away from Duncan's cock, and then pulled back slightly. Methos met Duncan's eyes with a raised his eyebrow. He wanted to know if he had really hurt the Scot, and MacLeod understood the question. A second later Duncan caressed the inside of his foot, and Methos knew he was forgiven without ever having to say he was sorry. Methos loved the other man. The caress only lasted a second, and then MacLeod removed his hand. The game continued.

"Why wouldn't I?" Methos asked, remembering their place.

"Because you'd be chained to my bed."

"But you toy is broke," Methos pointed out, grinning at him. Did MacLeod really say chain? They would have to play that game, too. Methos made a mental note to remind Duncan later on.

"It has a fast recovery time," Duncan was smiling as well.

"Duncan, you take all the fun out of being annoying," Methos said. He lay back and groaned. The sun really was hot and he still had his clothing on.

"Damn. You've caught on," MacLeod said. Methos didn't have to look at him to see that grin.

Methos pulled off his sweater, tossing it with the rest of MacLeod's things. "What's for dinner?" he asked, sitting up and going through the basket.

Duncan didn't move. "Methos?"

"What?"

"Why do you always forget to finish what you started?"

"Well, this time because I really am hungry. Besides, MacLeod, you should trust me more often. You'll need your energy."

"Methos?"

"What?" Methos asked, already digging through the basket. Duncan was almost obsessed. Baby carrots, sausages, bananas...Methos eyes glinted, as he worked through the possibilities. "Duncan. Duncan, Duncan. Do we have a theme going on here?"

MacLeod started blushing. "I was thinking of you while I packed it up," he said like it was a confession.

Methos dug through the basket, and picked up a single baby-carrot. He held it delicately, and showed it to MacLeod. "Surely you must think more of me than this," he asked, raising another eyebrow.

"Okay, so it's not to scale," MacLeod said, recovering from his blush. "Sue me."

"Slander is serious business. All I need is a male judge and I'd get the shirt off your back."

Duncan leaned over, picked his shirt up, and threw it at Methos.

Methos spat out the sand. "Funny, MacLeod," he said, dryly, and then wiped his eyes.

Duncan probably kissed him just to shut him up. Methos went backwards, but then squeaked as his bare back touched the hot sun. "Ow! Up, up, up!" he ordered. He tried to beat off the sand off him. "Brute," he said. He glared at the Scot for a second, and then deliberately turned his back.

Duncan ignored him, and shucked off his pants. Methos smiled, stretching out on the blanket, but Duncan stood up. "Where are you going?" Methos demanded.

"For a swim. You obviously don't want me," Duncan said.

Methos watched, stunned, as MacLeod took his toy and went away. He was being ignored. Methos hated it when that happened. He threw around the idea of actually getting up and entering the no-doubt frigid water, but then settled on the warmer, drier, and safer option of munching on baby-carrots and remaining on the blanket.

"Hey, water rat!" Methos called.

Duncan stopped, almost at the water's edge. "What?"

"Don't shrink those too much! We'll both need them later!" he shouted. Duncan went into the water any way.

Oh, well, Methos tried. He watched Duncan churn through the water, but Duncan's tight back and beautiful skin lulled him into the sweet remembrances of past dalliances.

Methos didn't realize he was asleep until the first drops of very cold water fell on his sun-beaten flesh. Duncan, apparently, was a dead man. Before Methos could rise, he was pinned to the blanket by MacLeod's cold, hard body. Eeek! he thought again. Fight or flight was so limiting in its choices when the other guy was actually loved and twice his body weight. Methos began to struggle to escape the clammy grasp.

"Methos?" Duncan whispered in his ear. "Let's eat."

Methos stopped kicking. "Eat? What?" he asked, cautiously.

Duncan paused for a moment, considering his options again. "Hum...let's start with what I brought and see where it leads."

Methos knew exactly where it was going to lead, but was willing to wait. Duncan got off him, and the sun was so hot he warmed up quickly. Methos found himself hoping Duncan's mother had never taught Duncan about not playing with his food.

"Here. Let's start with this," Methos said with a grin, and picked up a banana.

Duncan, sensing the danger he was in, quickly snatched the fruit from Methos. MacLeod peeled it quickly and broke it in half.

Did MacLeod really think that would keep him safe if Methos really wanted to play? He shook his head, but then sighed, theatrically. "Curses. My plan is foiled yet again," he said. He took up the broken banana, and put them back in the basket. "Shame to waste that. Bananas are an excellent source of potassium," he said. Not that he had any intention of wasting it. He was just waiting for a more convenient time to play with it.

"What else to we have," Methos continued, and then grinned as he took out the sausage. It was rich and meaty, and when he peeled off the first skin, he could smell the garlic. Duncan's eyes widened slightly as Methos caressed it for a second, and then shook his head. "You're just sick, MacLeod," he said, grinning again. Duncan relaxed, somewhat.

Methos found the honey mustard, and squirted a small amount on the tip of the sausage. He nipped and licked it off, and Duncan obviously enjoyed the show. "I'm sorry," Methos finally asked. "Did you want some?"

Duncan moved up and licked the dollop of mustard off Methos' lip. "Lie down," Methos whispered when their lips finally stopped touching. Duncan did so. Methos put his hand on the heaving chest, and worked his hand over the pectorals. Duncan was almost dry from his swim, and his skin was just beginning to feel hot again under his hands. He appreciated it a lot more when Duncan didn't look and feel like a silkie.

Methos took the bottle of honey mustard and with a devilish grin, traced out the M on Duncan's pelvic bone. He then completed the word "MINE".

"Possessive, aren't we?" Duncan asked, after he craned his neck to see what Methos had written.

"Serving trays don't speak. Hush," Methos said. He took the sausage up, and rolled it in the mustard before bringing it to Duncan's lips. "Open," he whispered.

"Serving trays--" Duncan began, and then almost gagged on the sausage. Methos was still slightly hurting over the baby-carrot remark.

"Now you know how I feel," Methos said, completely without sympathy. He withdrew the sausage slightly, and was surprised by the violence Duncan bit down on it. Methos decided to stop blindly trusting MacLeod in bed.

The sausage was rich, and by the end of it, they both stank of garlic. It was great. Methos licked up the last of the mustard and they kissed off the grease on each other's lips. "Now for dessert," Methos whispered.

"I didn't bring anything for it," MacLeod said, trying to draw Methos back into another kiss. Methos leaned away for a moment, and brought the banana out again.

"You still don't know me, do you?" he asked, "It seemed like such a waste to just throw this out." Methos then smashed it against Duncan's chest.

Duncan looked down at the squashed fruit, and said, "I hope you can think of a way to clean that up."

Methos smiled and ran his finger through the mess on Duncan's chest. "You doubt I wouldn't?" he asked.

Duncan took Methos' hand and proceeded to clean it. His tongue played between Methos' long, slender fingers, darting around to remove the sticky fruit from his hand. Methos allowed a finger to enter Duncan's mouth. He rubbed the roof of MacLeod's mouth, and teased his tongue. Methos felt the heat rise in his body.

After a long, luxurious sucking, Methos withdrew. He paused for a moment, taking Duncan's finger and worked it through more of the mess. He brought Duncan's hand to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around MacLeod's width. He rubbed his cheek against the back of Duncan's hand, and nipped his way to the tip of his finger. He held Duncan's finger still, and then smiled at the lust in Duncan's eyes. He parted his lips, now taking MacLeod's length. He bobbed his head up and down the finger one and a half times, and then came to a rest so that his nose touched MacLeod's knuckle. He swallowed, tightening his throat muscles against the Scot, and then pulled back, raking his teeth on the underside of MacLeod's finger. It wasn't enough to hurt, but he could feel MacLeod's shudder.

Methos grinned, and worked his whole hand through the remains of the banana. He slid down MacLeod's body and cupped Duncan's testicles with his clean hand. With his not-so-clean hand, he gathered up Duncan's cock, and begun working the pulp up and down. "You twisted little devil," Duncan groaned.

"You love me," Methos said, "and you love this."

Duncan's groan was enough of an answer. Methos' attentions made Duncan's cock rock hard against him, and Methos sat up on his haunches, carefully working his mouth over the tip. He teased the slit, and smiled as the cock jerked against him. He slowly began moving down on it, working his throat muscles like he had when it was just a finger down the back of it. Duncan tensed, gasped, and tightened a bit more. Eventually Methos' nose nudged Duncan's pelvic bone, and he froze, sighing.

It didn't take much more. Methos ever so lightly scraped his teeth against the thick vein on the base of Duncan's cock, and the Scot swore at him. Methos swallowed, but honestly could only taste the banana.


End file.
